


Karl der Flugsicherungsbeamte

by Enremus, Mirocle



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: How to be German, M/M, and Spezi, enjoy beer, love Kartoffelsalat, love bread, take ages eating breakfast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enremus/pseuds/Enremus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirocle/pseuds/Mirocle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirocle and I thought about how "German" Karl's name - with a K - looks and decided to have a little fun with that. Our Karl is a Bavarian Karl and drives his husband Martin up the wall with his German way of living - opening beer bottles with his teeth and moaning about the speed limit on motorways  doesn't even begin to cover it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bread & Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful fractionallyfoxtrot. Danke <3

Stumbling up the driveway to his home, Martin tried to balance the shopping bags in one hand and his keys in the other. He fumbled with the lock, trying to push the door open without dropping his groceries, and nearly fell over when the door suddenly opened. He found himself face to face with his husband Karl, who smirked at him. Martin just huffed.

“Quite alright, I can manage it myself,” he mumbled, pushing past his husband.

“Nice to have you back,” Karl laughed. “Busy, I take it?”

“Don’t even get me started,” Martin sighed. “As if the shops were closing down for a week.”

 Karl hummed in agreement. “Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll be with you in a second,” Martin replied and went into the kitchen. He opened the freezer to put away the ice cream he bought as a special treat and nearly had a mental breakdown. “KARL?” he cried and watched his husband peeking sheepishly around the corner. “What’s this?” Martin demanded to know, pointing at the freezer.

 “... Bread?”

 “I can see that. I mean, why are you using our freezer as a small bakery?” Martin groaned.

 “Well, you remember I went to London today…?”

 “Yeees…?” Martin prompted. “The last time I checked, though, London wasn’t exactly known for its bread.”

 Karl smirked. “It still isn’t. In fact, no English city is. Which is why, when I stumbled across this German bakery shop-”

 Martin chuckled sarcastically. “I see. Say no more.”

 "Let me finish! So, I stumbled across this wonderful bakery, which reminded me of the one my grandmother Brigitte used to run, back in Munich…”

 “Wait a minute, your grandmother was a nurse!”

 “The point is though, they had a sale and I needed bread. It felt like home, Martin! So I bought a few loaves. They’re delicious.” Karl took a loaf he hadn’t put in the freezer and gently held it under Martin’s nose. “Smell this beauty,” he said in a whisper. Martin’s stomach growled but he didn’t want to give in yet.

 “A _few_? You could feed half of Fitton with your bread,” he said, taking the loaf from Karl and putting it back on the counter. Karl soothingly put his hands on Martin’s waist.

 “It'll taste even better served for breakfast tomorrow morning … while you’re still in bed,” Karl winked.

 “Breakfast with a German - that'll take _ages_ ,” Martin grumbled, still not convinced. “Remember that time we were on holiday in Germany and everybody invited us for breakfast? I saw more German dining tables than famous sights. We spent _forever_ eating breakfast with your aunt. By the time we were done, we nearly could’ve started dinner.”

 “One time we actually did,” Karl snickered.

 “That’s the point!” Martin exclaimed but joined in laughing with his husband. Then he frowned and surveyed the freezer with a sigh. “Although because of your bread we don’t have any space left for the ice cream I bought.”

“I know a solution to _that_ problem,” Karl grinned, taking the boxes from the grocery bag and moving over to the living room.

Martin sighed again, watching his husband leave the kitchen. He still wasn’t too sure about hoarding all those loaves of bread but deep down he was glad Karl found something that reminded him of home – and if all it took to make his husband happy was turning his freezer into a bakery, who was he to deny that? With a small smile on his face and two spoons in his hand he followed Karl into the living room.


	2. A Spezi-al evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Martin are invited to Phil's birthday party to which Karl brings something that Martin secretly adores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it's taken us this long but to be honest, it might be a while before we can add another chapter again (so maybe bookmark us...?).  
> Thanks go out to the lovely wingsoflace for being our beta. Have fun in Germany!

"What are you doing?", Martin asked wearily as he stepped into the kitchen where Karl was preparing something.

They had been invited to Phil's birthday party and Karl had obviously used the time Martin had spent taking a shower and picking an outfit to work in the kitchen.

"I am preparing some Kartoffelsalat", Karl explained and turned around, smiling at Martin and his outfit choice of a plain blue shirt and dark jeans.. "Since Phil said it'll be a barbecue I thought I'd take something to eat. That's what we do in Germany. And my grandmother's Kartoffelsalat is the best there is, you know that."

Martin rolled his eyes and sighed. "I suppose it's potato salad again? And we don't need to take something to every single dinner we attend..." It had become a habit for Karl to prepare his potato salad for any occasion he could think of and Martin was afraid it would annoy their friends sooner or later.

With a smirk, Karl wrapped his arms around Martin and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "They will love it, Martin. And yes, Kartoffelsalat means potato salad. Well done. You'll be fluent in German before I know it."

Martin huffed at that and shook his head, staying close to Karl. "I'll never be fluent in that creaky language of yours", he mumbled, "And haven't we discussed the matter of you and your potato salad before? It's not even something to put on the grill!"

"No, and it doesn't have to be. You know how well it works as a side to your sausages or bacon. It's not like you haven't tried it before or actually hate it." Karl let go of Martin, rather proud of himself for still being this patient with his partner after all this hassle over some potato salad. "Come on, are you ready? Phil will be waiting for us and if we don't hurry we won't even get bacon or sausages and you'll have to eat Kartoffelsalat all evening", he teased and quickly poured it into a bowl, closing the lid on it and took it in one hand to carry it out to his car.

 

 

 

“There you are!”, Phil said with a bright smile as Karl and Martin entered his garden and quickly hugged both of them. “Oh, what’s that?”, he asked as he spotted the bowl in Karl’s hands.

“Potato salad”, Karl said with a proud nod and handed it over to him. “It’ll go well with the meat. And it’s my grandmother’s secret recipe.”

“Great, thanks, mate. Do you want a beer? I found a new German one that reminded me of you!”, Phil said and showed them the drinks table. “Look at that! Carlsberg! For Karl!”

Karl laughed and shook his head, picking up one of the green bottles. “Dude, it’s from Denmark. Not Germany. Though by now it belongs to the Holsten brewery so they teamed up with a German one…” He quickly stopped as he saw Phil’s rather indifferent -though still friendly - look and shrugged. “Sorry, I just knew that. And sadly, I’m driving today so no alcohol for me.”

A glance over to Martin, who just nodded, showed him that there was no chance of escaping that duty today. They had come up with a rather simple solution and changed who had to do the driving for each thing they were invited to.

“Ah, of course”, Phil replied, “In that case - Coke? I tried to find your name on one for ages so it’d say ‘Share a Coke with Karl’ but I couldn’t find one so you’ll have to live with… this.” He glanced down at the bottle which said ‘Share a Coke with Carlton’.

Karl nodded with a smirk and took a glass, filling it up half way and looking around. “Do you happen to have Fanta as well?”, he asked.

Martin groaned at those words, rolling his eyes but smirking at the same time. He knew his husband far too well to wonder what he was up to.

“You are lucky today because I do indeed. I remembered your love for it last time. What do you call that mixture again…?”, Phil asked and handed him the Fanta that he had stored underneath the table to make sure no one else took it.

“It’s called Spezi”, Karl told him with a happy smile as he poured the Fanta into the glass with the Coke. “And it’s the best because it’s not as sweet as Coke on its own but also not as orange-y as Fanta.”

“Karl?”, Martin said, stopping his partner before he could start to recite his essay about Spezi, “Could you open this bottle for me, please?”

The bottle opener was currently taken and Martin knew how well Karl could open bottles - with anything, really. Including… “Not with your teeth!”, Martin added hastily and a little shocked as Karl did exactly that. “You’re going to ruin your teeth with that”, he complained but Karl just laughed, blew him a kiss and handed him the open bottle. “Enjoy”, he said, “Because at least _you_ can get properly drunk tonight.”

Martin grinned at that and sneakily helped himself to some potato salad.


	3. Handy Hausschuhe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one buys Hausschuhe like Martin and no one wears them like Karl.

“Karl! There’s a parcel for you!”, Martin called out as he opened the door and picked up the rather large package that had been placed on their doormat. “What did you order _now?_ ”, he asked and raised an eyebrow at Karl who had quickly jogged down the stairs towards him. “Please don’t tell me you ordered Hausschuhe again…” 

Karl grinned and took the parcel out of Martins hands, leaving a quick peck on his partner’s cheek. “I could tell you that I didn’t, but then you’d wait here until I’ve opened it anyway, so what’s the point of lying to you.” 

He reached for a pair of scissors and cut the brown package open, revealing one huge slipper with eight regular-sized slippers next to it. One pair was red, another one was blue, one was green and the last one was yellow while the huge slipper itself was grey. 

Martin frowned at them, then looked back up at Karl. “Care to explain what _that_ is?” 

Karl chuckled at that question and shrugged, taking the largest slipper out of the box. “Hausschuhe for our guests”, he simply said and held up the slipper, showing Martin that there was indeed a loop so they could put it on the wall. “See? You put this up upside down and then you can use it as a bag for the other Hausschuhe. And when your mother visits us or my friends from Germany come over they don’t have to endure cold feet.” 

Martin snorted and shook his head. “They only suffer from cold feet because you constantly keep the window open! And there is no way I am wearing any of these.”

“Martin, it’s called ‘lüften’ and it makes sure our flat doesn’t develop mould like literally every other flat we have visited so far has. It works perfectly well in Germany and it is cheaper than battling the mould once it is there. And you don’t have to wear my Hausschuhe, but I think they are very useful.” 

 

oOo

 

A week later Karl used the opportunity of Martin being gone on a flight to Dublin to put up the oversized slipper right next to the door, smirking a little at the thought of Martin’s face once he came back home. 

Just when he was satisfied with the way his new slippers were hanging on the wall the doorbell rang. Karl rushed to open it and was surprised to see the mailman in front of him, handing him another parcel with his name on it. Karl couldn’t remember having ordered anything else, so he was very curious to see what was in there. When he opened the package he paused for a moment, furrowing his brows. The parcel contained a pair of Hausschuhe that Karl had definitely not ordered. They were mustard-yellow with pink dots on them and incredibly ugly, and Karl quickly looked for a message from his mother - the only person he could think of to send him these - but didn’t find one. Still puzzled, he texted Martin.

_You don’t by any chance know about a parcel being sent to my name? K_

_I might. M_

_Did you order them?! K_

_Well, I thought since you look hilarious with those slippers on anyway, you could wear that pair instead. If you dare to. M_

_You know how much I love a challenge. And no one but you sees me wearing them anyway. K_

_I will send pictures to Phil. M_

_Don’t you dare! K_

Karl smiled to himself. He could easily imagine Martin browsing the internet in order to find the ugliest and most atrocious pairs of slippers just to ruffle his feathers and to make fun of his preference for warm feet. What Martin didn’t know, though, was that Karl didn’t care at all how his slippers looked - they had to be comfy and they had to be warm. 

And so he couldn’t help but laugh when Martin actually started to buy the most ridiculous selection of slippers. He even went that far to prepare an advent calendar for Karl, containing dozens of slippers in all sorts and colours, and Karl wore them with pride - whether they were black with pink skulls, light blue with orange stripes or leopard prints mixed with giraffe spots. 

 

oOo

 

Karl opened the door to their flat with the grocery bags in hand, ready to surprise Martin with an early evening home after an afternoon at Phil’s, spent with drinking beer and watching a few movies together. He hadn’t planned to be home this early, but Phil had been asked out on a date and Karl didn’t want to keep him from that.

“Martin, I’m home!”, he called out and walked over to the living room, frowning for a moment before grinning brightly. “What could you possibly be wearing on your feet right now, darling?”, he asked and pointed to the Hausschuhe Martin was currently wearing, propped up on the sofa. 

Martin blushed a tiny bit and shrugged, pulling the blanket up to cover his chin. “It’s freezing in here!”, he complained and glanced over to the open window, “You never close those windows so I had to find a way to keep my feet warm.” 

Karl laughed and made his way over to the sofa, sitting down next to Martin and wrapping his arms around him. “My poor pilot”, he teased and quickly kissed the tip of Martin’s nose. “At least you agree with me now. Hausschuhe are handy.”


End file.
